Only human
by samanddianefan10
Summary: a different kind of Mulcahy story. In the aftermath of the camp's biggest crisis to date, the good Father finds a little comfort in the most unexpected of places. Now a continuing story!
1. Chapter 1

Some days Father Mulcahy hated his job. Tonight was a particularly difficult night, perhaps the worst one of his career as a priest. He'd spent 14 hours comforting the members of the 4077 over the death of Henry Blake. Father Mulcahy was getting accustomed to war and the sadness it brought, but tonight a wave of another kind of emotion had taken over the camp- hopelessness. Never before had he seen so many men and women alike cry, yell, shout out in frustration, or share their own fears of their demise. It seemed as if Henry had touched one too many lives at the 4077.

He didn't know if he had the strength to go on. Who could comfort the comforter? In his head he knew the answer- there was one Great Comforter- but tonight he had a few doubts in his mind. Henry was a wonderful, kind, gracious man, but he had his faults. To be honest, his morality around the camp left the Father with a few doubts of his own about his place in Heaven. And he hated himself for even thinking that.

If good heartedness was the key to heaven, then Henry would be joining the front of the pack. But he was a bit of a drinker, and worst of all, adultery was something seriously frowned upon in the Good Book. How could Henry not go to heaven? The thought troubled him to no end, and he stared at a bottle of scotch someone left behind, seriously wanting to partake in some non-communion communion.

The thought was tempting. How easy would it be for him to drown his sorrows, like most of the camp had? It was so tempting. After all, Father Mulcahy was only human. He couldn't be strong all of the time. But if he couldn't be the strength of the camp, the voice of humanity, who could?

Oh how his calling could be a curse and a blessing. He just wanted to forget, forget all of the sorrow he'd seen during the past day. Nothing made sense to him anymore. The loss of a good man- his soul in question, the failing morale of the camp...it was just a beast of a burden, almost too much for one man to take.

Oh he knew what he should do. He should turn his sorrows over to the Lord, but how could he, when the Lord had apparently let down the camp on this terrible day? The very idea that he could think that thought troubled him, but he had reached his breaking point. All he wanted to do was drown that last bottle of scotch, to drink to forget, to live to forget. But with people still in demand of his service, how could he let down the camp like that?

Finally, after pouring himself a drink and ready to participate in, one final knock on his tent occurred. Grateful for this newfound savior, he quickly put away the drink and called for the knocker to come in.

Not much by surprise, it was Hawkeye who was the persistent caller. Father Mulcahy had been expecting this, if only that he was a sounding board. He was well aware of Hawkeye's believes in the afterlife, but a person could only hold so much in. He understood the feeling well.

"Hawkeye...how can I help you?"

Hawkeye tried to hold it in, tried to be strong, but a little too much alcohol, a lot too many hours in surgery, and of course, the death of one of his best friends had apparently gotten to him too.

Hawkeye quickly observed the scotch and poured himself one. He grabbed the glass that Mulcahy hid and offered it to him.

"Come on. Who's going to think less of you right now?" Hawkeye encouraged. "I sure as hell won't, pardon my french."

"Thank you, but I really shouldn't."

"Why not? You've probably had the worst day of us all here in camp. If anyone deserves a drink, it's you. I won't tell. Pinky promise."

Father Mulcahy mulled the offer. "I can't. But how may I help you, Hawkeye?"

"I just wanted to...I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Me?" It was the first time all day anyone had asked him that question.

"I know you've seen a thousand men and women today, but I know it can't be easy for you. So come on, Padre, spill it. How's your head holding up?"

Father Mulcahy sighed. "To tell you the truth, not so well. I have a headache and my throat is raw from talking and my ears even hurt. I shouldn't...I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Why not? Confidentiality goes both ways you know!"

Father Mulcahy's eyes started to well up, and he looked up towards the sky. "To tell you the truth nothing makes sense anymore. The things I once knew, I don't. The things I once was so sure of...now I'm not sure what to make of them. I am beginning to think I'm in the wrong profession."

"War is hell, ain't it Padre?"

He looked at Hawkeye, breathed a deep sigh again, and nodded his head. "I think you said it best for both of us."

"I wish I knew what to tell you. I wish I had an explanation. And if I'm doing some serious soul searching than I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

"why...why aren't you here? Why aren't you with..."

"Trapper? He passed out a long time ago. I didn't want to be alone, and somehow I suspected that you might not want to be either."

Father Mulcahy smiled for the first time all day. He'd almost forgotten how sensitive his friend could be, when he wanted to be.

Hawkeye handed the priest the drink, and looked at him and said," Pray for forgiveness tomorrow. Tonight this may be your only friend."

Father Mulcahy nodded, and took a long drink then sat the glass down. He felt bad, but not as badly as he did for all of his comrades who had lost their leader, a great friend.

"You know something, Hawkeye?"

"What's that? I'm all ears."

"I might hate myself tomorrow for that, but for tonight, I really don't care. The hell with today, I say."

"I'll drink to that," They both lifted their glasses in one final salute to their fallen leader. Father Mulcahy knew that Hawkeye could be trusted to keep his secret. And he knew in the big scheme of things he would be forgiven. After all, he was only human after all, right?

The end


	2. Chapter 2

Just as the Father was ready to call it a night, he had one last, final visitor for the night. In his heart he knew who it was- it was the one person he'd most expected but hadn't come by.

"Come in, Radar," he called as he threw away the empty scotch bottle.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Father. I know you've been busy today and I didn't want to bother you. It's just that...that I couldn't sleep. Not even with him," Radar nodded at the teddy bear he was clutching.

"You're never any bother, son. If I can ever be of service to you I want you to feel free to call at any hour."

Radar said nothing for a few minutes. "Father, may I ask you a question?"

Mulcahy smiled. "Of course you may. That's why I'm here."

"Do you believe in heaven and God?"

Mulcahy knew exactly where he was going with this. "I would hope so, son. Is there anything in particular that's troubling you?"

Radar's lip trembled as he thought carefully about how he wanted to proceed. "I just...never mind. I guess I really shouldn't be here."

"If you weren't here, were would you be? I'm sure your teddy bear is of some comfort, but sometimes there is something about the company of your fellow man that can do wonders for your soul. I know that it does mine," Mulcahy smiled wearily.

"I just don't know where to begin. I am tired, Father. Really tired. Sometimes I think Klinger has the right idea. I even thought about joining him but if my Uncle Ed ever found out I wore a dress he'd wear my hide out with a belt!"

The innocence of his statement almost made Mulcahy smile. Almost. He knew Radar and how difficult it was for him to express himself; this occasion was certainly one of the worst of the young lad's life. How could he, a priest, provide the comfort that young Radar was so in desperate need of at this moment?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I wasn't laughing with you. It's just I'm tired, son."

"I shouldn't be here anyways. I'm sorry to trouble you."

"Please, Radar, sit down. I would be happy to help you. I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I can at least try. Please, sit down. To be completely honest with you your I could use your company at the moment."

Radar looked around, then sat down slowly. "Sir..Father..." his mind was in a million directions. This was even harder than when he had to break the news of Colonel Blake's death to the group.

"I was just wondering...if there really is a heaven," Radar settled on saying.

"I'd like to think there is. If I don't, then I'm in the wrong profession."

"Do you think...do you think Colonel Blake is there now?"

Mulcahy took a deep breath. He didn't want to admit that he'd been doubting that very idea, considering the notion that Henry might not have made it to the great afterlife. How could he reassure Radar when he was still in doubt?

"What do you think, Radar?" He answered a question with a question, a trick he'd learned from Sydney.

"I hope so. I know he wasn't perfect; he made a lot of mistakes. But he was the bestest person I knew; I know what people said about him. But I know he loved his family. He was..."

"Like the father you never had?"

Now Radar finally smiled. "I guess that's what I was trying to say."

"It's okay to love someone, Radar. Even when they are not with us anymore. Love is always the right answer."

"I mean, how can I tell him I love him if he's...not here? I tried but I know I'm not no good with words the way Hawkeye and Trapper are."

"You can say it in a prayer. I cannot see my Father, and I speak to him daily. Nightly as well," Mulcahy responded.

"You talk to your father?" Radar asked innocently. "I guess I never thought of you as having one."

"My heavenly Father, Radar. We all have one, if you just give Him a chance. I'm sure he can provide the comfort and the answers that you seek, much more eloquently than I ever could."

Radar's eyes widened. "Oh I'm sorry Father. I never meant to insult you when I said that about Hawkeye and Trapper."

It was definitely bringing the priest some comfort with the innocence of Radar's presence. "No offense taken. I rather enjoy your company to tell you the truth."

"I enjoyed Colonel Blake's company..." Radar's voice trailed off, leading to a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Would you ...would you like for me to pray with you?"

Radar thought about it. "No sir. I don't mean no disrespect. I just think that I need to ...think about things, I guess."

"That's all right. Any time you need someone to talk to I want you to feel free to call on me."

"Thank you Father. I hope you don't mind but I'm kind of tired and I have to get up in an hour. Thank you for listening."

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answers you were seeking. I'm afraid that I don't really have them myself to be honest with you."

"That's all right Father. I'll see you later."

Before Radar left, he looked at the bottle of scotch in the trash can, leaving him with even more questions than when he had walked in the room.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Finally after everyone had left him alone, Mulcahy had a chance to think. It wasn't a pleasant thing. Normally he enjoyed the solitude that his tent often provided but tonight was different. Being alone with his thoughts left him in unfamiliar territory- he found himself in a state of confusion. Dazed, bewildered, lonely, hurt, betrayed- there was no limit to the range of emotions that the good Father was experiencing. He'd comforted many, many people during his time at the 4077, but tonight was a different kind of occasion. He was truly bearing the cross of everyone in the camp, and it was a burden too heavy for one person to bear alone.

And that was the predicament he found himself in. He was truly, truly alone. Normally Mulcahy knew that he could draw upon the strength of the Lord, and he felt guilty for entertaining these thoughts, but tonight he felt a new emotion when it came to God. He felt betrayed. Angry, betrayed and hurt, he didn't know if he had the words to convey through prayer how he was feeling about this loss. War was hell- Hawkeye was right. But to lose such a good man as Henry Blake left Mulcahy exhausted, physically and emotionally. He knew it was his job to provide comfort to the camp...the only one who hadn't come to see him was Frank Burns. In his mind he knew Frank well enough to know what he was thinking- this was his big break, the one that he'd been looking for since he'd arrived at the unit. Even Margaret had been to see Mulcahy, and he knew how difficult that was for her to visit him. Mulcahy didn't doubt that this had affected Frank- he personally witnessed the tears that had formed in his eyes when they all learned the news. But for Frank to think of himself rather than Henry or even his family, well, that was just too much to take in.

Mulcahy was alone. Drinking more wasn't an option, nor was talking to anyone. He knew Sidney would be arriving at any minute, but he felt strange about opening up his own feelings to anyone. It was his duty to be the strong one, the man of faith, the man who believed. But what happened when the chief believer wasn't sure what to believe in anymore? What would happen to him, what would happen to the camp?

Gazing at himself in the mirror, he stared for a long time at the collar around his neck. It represented so many things. It told his company exactly who he was- a man of the Word. A man of Faith. A man of Hope. But without those things, how could he, in good faith, wear it? Tears fell down his face as he thought of Henry's last few hours. He'd been so happy, so joyous, so excited to see his family again. He had a newborn son who would now never know his own father! How could the good Lord allow something like that to happen, not just to a man, but to a father, a friend, a leader? He knew he shouldn't be thinking those thoughts, but he couldn't help himself. Maybe it would take all the strength he had to continue, but in those early morning hours of dawn, a realization came to Mulcahy. He couldn't be the man the camp needed him to be anymore. He wasn't even sure who he was. Before he'd always found comfort in the Good Word, the Good Book, but he had long since tucked it away into his drawer. Out of eyesight, out of mind. So slowly Mulcahy removed his collar, not sure if he could ever put it on again.


	4. Chapter 4

Sidney knocked twice on the Father's tent, then realized he must have finally fallen asleep. Sidney smiled to himself; not that there was anything funny about the situation, because most certainly there wasn't, but he'd been in Mulcahy's position of having to comfort an entire camp before. He of all people could appreciate Mulcahy's need for a deep sleep.

He let himself in, just to check on things. There, sitting on his desk, was Mulcahy's collar. It was symbolic of what he must be feeling, Sidney noted. Not that he expected him to sleep with the religious symbol on; on contrary, he'd half expected to find it within reach of the sleeping Father.

It smelled like scotch in there, Japanese scotch to be exact. He couldn't blame him. Drinking on occasion was good for the soul. But it was the depths to which Mulcahy tried to cover it was what disturbed Sidney. There were fresh flowers and it smelled a bit like disinfectant in his tent, but there was no doubt what Mulcahy was trying to hide. Hawkeye and Trapper installed a still in their tent, and it reeked, truth be told. But for the Father to do something so out of character, something in which he was so clearly ashamed of, troubled Sidney.

Just then Mulcahy awoke. "Sidney?" he asked, confused.

"Pardon me, Father. I know I came in uninvited and quite possibly unwanted, but you see, I wanted to check on you. It's in our nature, I believe."

A disheveled Mulcahy sat up, his hair representative of the slumber that he'd finally found,. "Pardon my appearance. It seems as if I fell asleep, although strangely enough, I don't recall ever going to bed."

Sidney sympathized with him greatly. He'd been there himself many, many times. "Don't worry. This is not a beauty pageant. If it were surely I'd be disqualified- I don't seem to represent the American ideal of beauty," he laughed.

Confused and still half asleep, Mulcahy rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sidney. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually I'm here to help you help yourself."

"Pardon?"

"I'm here to relieve you. You have a 48 hour pass to Seoul, starting at your convenience."

"I can't leave now. Surely you've heard..."

"About Henry? What a shame. A loss of a truly good soul. Speaking of Seoul, may I assist you in packing?"

"I appreciate the offer but surely you know that I can't leave the camp, not at this hour of crisis."

"I'm afraid it's not a request. It's an order. It comes from your temporary commander in charge."

"You mean..."

Sidney nodded. "That's right. Frank Burns requested that I take over your duties for the next few days. I get the sense he's not the most generous of commanders, so I would take advantage of his offer while it still stands."

It didn't make sense. "Why does Frank...Major Burns...want me out of camp? Does he think I'm a hindrance?"

"Au contraire. He knows how you've been tiring yourself out. I would take him on his offer if I were you," Sidney reinforced.

"What kind of priest would I be if I abandoned my flock in their time of need?"

"I may not have the history correct, but didn't Jesus take a few days off himself?"

Mulcahy wanted to protest, but he knew exactly what passage that Sidney was referring to.

"I'm sorry, Sidney. I just can't...I can't..."

"Perhaps you should talk this over with Major Burns before making your decision."

Mulcahy grabbed his robe and his glasses, overlooking the collar on his desk. "Of course. I don't see what good it will do though."

Sidney smiled at his friend, with all of the compassion he had in him. "Try him. You might be surprised."

Mulcahy looked at him, then went to find Frank.

0000

"Major...I received your request from Sidney,and I find it most unsettling."

Frank was busy shaving. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You didn't order my 48 hour pass to Seoul?"

"Oh that," Frank examined his face closely. "I just thought you could use a break. I'd go myself but I believe my services are needed."

"And mine aren't?!"

"Now Father, don't get all worked up. I know how tired you must be...it's been a very trying past 24 hours for all of us."

Now Mulcahy really blew up. "Apparently for some more than others. That's right, I know how you've been chomping at the bits to replace Henry. And you obviously see your chance. Forgive me for saying this but I don't believe your motives for getting rid of me are entirely pure!"

Frank put down his razor and looked at the priest. "Are you refusing an order?"

Both stared at each other for a few minutes. "No," Mulcahy gave in. "I suppose not."

Frank giggled nervously. "Very well. I assume you travel lightly so you should be ready to leave in an hour?"

"An hour would be fine," Mulcahy sighed.

As he left Frank's tent, he couldn't help but question his motives. What was in it for Frank to rid himself of the priest for a few days? At the risk of being judgmental, he knew Frank well enough to know that he didn't do something kind unless there was something in it for him. But he had his orders, and it was off to Seoul he went.


	5. Chapter 5

So as Father Mulcahy started to pack, he received the most unexpected of visitors.

"Major Burns, Major Houlihan, how may I help you?"

"Father," Margaret began softly. "You may call me Margaret, just for today, if you like."

Her compassion surprised him. "Thank you, Major...Margaret. I'm afraid I am in a bit of a hurry, but how may I help you both?" he repeated himself with trepidation.

"It's Frank," Margaret began. "I want you to reassure him that anything we talk about is confidential...perhaps you could put your collar back on."

Obeying, he nodded at Frank.

"Father...I, oh, Margaret, do I have to do this?" Frank whined.

"Go on. It will do you a world of good."

"Father, I was talking to Major Houlihan, and she seems to think I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"She thinks I'm scared of going to hell."

That caught him by surprise. "Major Burns, is that how you feel?"

"I don't know. Kind of. Sort of. Oh, Father, this is all my fault!" Frank sobbed, with Margaret lending a comforting shoulder for him to cry on.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Father, it's my fault he's dead! I hated him. I wanted him gone. I'm so selfish. Maybe everyone is right about me," Frank continued.

Mulcahy was shocked. He'd never seen this side to Frank Burns before. "Major, I have no doubt that this was just an accident, a terrible, tragic accident."

"But he was shot down! He was murdered!"

Mulcahy took off his glasses. "Oh, Major. If we look at it that way then that opens the doors for all sorts of resentment and other bitter feelings to take over. If we look at it as another casualty of war.."

"But it was Henry Blake we're talking about! Some help you are. Come on, Margaret. Let's get out of here."

Mulcahy sighed. It was going to be a long, long 48 hours. Perhaps Frank was right in giving him a pass. He certainly wasn't being of much help to anyone. Before leaving, he realized that he'd almost forgotten his Bible. He thought about leaving it, but at the last minute changed his mind. Not that he wanted to use it while he was there, but his conscience got the better of him, and with his life's tool in hand, off to Seoul Mulcahy went, in search of what, God only knew.


End file.
